Almost Always Second Place
by Dlvvanzor
Summary: Mello is always second place. Well, almost always. Oneshot Mello POV


Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

**A/N: Um... enjoy! :D**

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Yep. I'm a dick. But hey, at least I _know_ it, right? I'm a dick, and I dress funny. I'm a dick, I dress funny, and I have a foul mouth. No, wait. I'm not done. I'm a dick, I dress funny, I have a foul mouth, _and_ I've never been better than second place.

Matt has (lovingly) called me hypercompetitive more times than I can count. Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually aware of it. Try not to faint. I _know_ I'm a psycho like that, and yet I'm completely incapable of stopping myself. So I mostly just give in to it. I stopped trying to fight my nature a loooong time ago. It simply can't be done, so I might as well embrace it. At least no one can call me lazy.

But I mean seriously. _Never_ better than second place.

_Also_ contrary to popular belief, it isn't only Near that beats me at everything. And I don't even hate him any more than I hate anyone _else_ who's better than me at something. Stupid little Q-Tip.

For example. I work my ass off all the time. Constantly. Sometimes I go weeks without any kind of eat/sleep pattern, just working until I pass out or until Matt steps in and forces some food other than chocolate down my throat. But, no matter how much I actually _work_, for Near, it's always just right there already. He just... _gets_ things 100 times faster than I do, even on my best day. And then there's Matt, who I would despise if I didn't love more than anything, who would have been smarter than _Near_ with even _less_ effort if he had applied himself and hadn't murdered some brain cells with nicotine and video games and the drugs he did for a while until I beat them out of him. If I had had Matt's brains and my work ethic, I would have blown past L, BB, and Fuckface (aka, Light Yagami) combined. Man, that would have been beautiful.

Besides Near and Matt, though, I'm still always blown out of the water. Everything I'm good at, someone is better. I know this is normal, but it still pisses the hell out of me. I don't _want_ to be normal, I want to be that freaky-smart guy or that freaky-charismatic guy or that freaky-whatever guy! I want to be so, SO good at _some_thing that it's not even disputed, not even in people's minds to doubt it. But instead, I'm _second_ best at _everything_. Second smartest (to Near). Second charismatic (to Imagay). Second whatever. Who remember the guy who came in second? I ask you.

It's the _second _part that just gets to me. It's soooo close to first, but it's_ not_ first. I'd rather be dead last than second. Like the things that I'm absolutely terrible at- football, for example- don't bother me at all. I'm dead last at football (I have the anger and brute strength necessary but I can't throw), and I couldn't care less.

But second. It just infuriates me.

Matt is the only one who apparently doesn't think I'm a loser, including me. Maybe he thinks _he's_ a loser. Huh. Never thought about that. If he actually does then I'll have to set him straight. Anyway, he's the only one who's always on my side. Even when I'm _always_ second, Matt seems to not care. This is a foreign concept to me. I come home foaming at the mouth _mad_ and he just sits there playing his games calmly on the couch. Things come whizzing by his face (as I throw them randomly) and he notices but he just doesn't seem to mind. If I talk to him he'll respond with that dual attention on his game and on me, an ability that lets me see yet again what a genius he could have been. If I don't say anything, he'll just sit there and keep gaming. It's like 'Mello's throwing things again. Is it already Tuesday?' and that somehow the madness is part of the Mello package. Well, excessive video gaming, agoraphobia, and cigarettes are part of the Matt package. I wish he _wouldn't_ do those things, but they're part of him and in the end I don't mind them too much. Maybe that's what it's like for Matt, too.

You should see our bills. They're mind-blowing. It's really good that we both get benefits from Wammy's and my Mafia stuff pays good and that Matt can hack our way into money. Seriously. There's the electricity bill from all the electronics in the house used for the Kira case. There's the cost of the batteries that Matt's Wii remotes go through like candy. There's the Replace Stuff Mello Broke fund (which is why I don't begrudge him the batteries). There's the chocolate and cigarette fund. And there's the astronomical air conditioning bill because neither one of us can stand being hot.

We are very complicated, demanding people. Especially me. And for whatever reason, Matt seems to like it and he sticks around. I treat him pretty well. Relatively. Well, I don't treat him _badly_. We yell at each other a lot, but that's just what we do. I keep my derogatory nicknaming to a bare minimum. I try not to swear at him. And the only time I hit him was when I found out about the drugs I told you about earlier. And that wasn't domestic violence-y, I'll have you know. I hit him man to man, friend to friend, and he fought back. I won, by the way. Just thought you should know. And our make-up sex was to die for.

So, the point is, Matt sticks around even though I'm a complete and utter dick and failure who wears weird clothes and has a foul mouth. He loves me _despite_ all of that stuff. Or maybe he loves all that stuff too, I don't know. But he loves me. And he knows I love him, more than anything. That's one thing I have that Near doesn't have, _I_ won't be dying _alone_.

See? I'm almost always second. It's the most aggravating thing ever.


End file.
